Here they were married, all square and regular, by the Scotch clergyman. He was the first minister of any kind that came up to the diggings, and the men had all come to like him for his straightforward, earnest way of preaching. Not that we went often, but a good few of us diggers went every now and then just to show our respect for him; and so Jim said he’d be married by Mr. Mackenzie and no one else. Jeanie was a Presbyterian, so it suited her all to pieces.

Well, the church was chockful. There never was such a congregation before. Lots of people had come to know Jim on the diggings, and more had heard of him as a straight-going, good-looking digger, who was free with his money and pretty lucky. As for Jeanie, there was a report that she was the prettiest girl in Melbourne, and something of that sort, and so they all tried to get a look at her. Certainly, though there had been a good many marriages since we had come to the Turon, the church had never held a handsomer couple. Jeanie was quietly dressed in plain white silk. She had on a veil; no ornaments of any kind or sorts. It was a warmish day, and there was a sort of peach-blossom colour on her cheeks that looked as delicate as if a breath of air would blow it away. When she came in and saw the crowd of bronze bearded faces and hundreds of strange eyes bent on her, she turned quite pale. Then the flush came hack on her face, and her eyes looked as bright as some of the sapphires we used to pick up now and then out of the river-bed. Her hair was twisted up in a knot behind; but even that didn’t hide the lovely colour nor what a lot there was of it. As she came in with her slight figure and modest face that turned up to Jim’s like a child’s, there was a sort of hum in the church that sounded very like breaking into a cheer.